


through the window

by orphan_account



Category: That '70s Show
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 21:39:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16626902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: in which i release my need for angst and my love for steven hyde in one fic.





	through the window

**Author's Note:**

> just btw i might change the title (also i had just posted another one but didn't like it...i'm so much better at angst)

-october 1977-

they say your whole world stops. your life flashes before your eyes. you see a bright light. all that. none of those things happened for me.

time slowed down. i felt each roll, each flip, every shard of glass piercing my skin and warm blood pooling to the surface. i felt my head hit the dashboard, my chest slam against the seat belt, my eyes squeeze shut.

_let it end. let it end. let it end._

i didn’t die. but i usually wish i had.

the police kept asking me questions. “was he drinking?” “was he tired?” “did he reach down to change the radio?” no, it wasn’t any of those. he was yelling. at me. real, slamming on the steering wheel, spit flying, end of the world yelling. and i was yelling back. all the things daughters say when they want their dads to feel bad.

and then the car flipped. rolled five times. i saw the photos, articles of clothing strewn across the highway, pieces of my life and his, wet from the rain, lost forever.

at the funeral, they said that god had been crying. he foresaw what would happen and preemptively wept at the future of me and my father. only i couldn’t get why he would have wept for me. i was here, sitting in the stuffy church, packed with friends and family who hadn’t contacted us in years, crying and pretending like they had cared while he was fucking alive. which they didn’t.

i didn’t die. my dad did. and on that day, i wished i had too.

my doctor let me leave the hospital just for the day of the funeral, despite me telling him that i didn’t want to go.

“no, dr. reed, i really don’t need to go.”

he flipped the page on my chart. i had multiple broken ribs, a dislocated, and pretty serious cuts and bruises on my entire body. i had caught a mildly severe cold from being out in the rain and 40° weather, and they were worried it would become pneumonia.

“look, stella, your mom asked me if she could take you for the day and bring you to the funeral. i said we could make it work for a few hours. if you don’t want to go, you’ll have to take it up with her,” he put the chart back and sat on the edge of the bed. “you’re gonna regret not going. you’ll want to be there.”

i knew he was right, but i fought my mom nonetheless. she promised she wouldn’t make me stay after. my brother would drive me back to the hospital as soon as the service ended. i wouldn’t have to talk to anyone, listen to choruses of “sorry for your loss”, the sniffles from relatives who never visited, i wouldn’t even have to go near the casket.

but that wasn’t what i was worrying about. i didn’t care about the people apologizing or crying.

i didn’t want to go because i knew my dad must have hated me. i couldn’t remember the last thing i said to him, but i knew it couldn’t have been nice. i wasn’t sure i could face that.

i was out of the hospital in about 2 weeks. my fever had subsided by the day before the funeral, but they kept me under surveillance on account of everything else that had happened. i still had to wait another 2 weeks to go back to school, and my mom took the instructions that i was on bed rest pretty seriously.

“no, no, no, you need to be in bed,” my brother said as i walked over to the couch.

“scott, seriously? where am i even gonna go?” i said. “mom hid my keys and everything hurts too much to drive anyway. i just-i can’t lay in my fucking bed anymore.”

“just sit on the couch at least,” he said, grabbing my hand and helping me sit down. my ribs were still super sore, it hurt to do a lot of movement. hence the bed rest.

“i hate being in this house,” i said. “i need to go somewhere.” i looked at him. “can we go to the hub and get food or something? please?” i stuck out my bottom lip.

“dude, mom will kill me if she finds out i took you out.” he shakes his head, sitting down next to me on the couch. “no way.”

“who says she’s gonna find out?” he raises an eyebrow at me. mom finds out everything. “fine. when she finds out, i’ll take the blame. she can’t get mad at me i’m injured.”

he sighs and crosses his arms across his chest. scott would never admit it, but he had always had a soft spot for me. one time, when i was in middle school, this boy pulled up my shirt while i was hanging upside down from the monkey bars. when i came home crying, my brother pinned me to the ground until i told him what happened. the boy came into school the next day with a black eye. no one spoke about what happened, but we all knew. scott was pretty hot-tempered.

he sighed and stood up from the couch. “where’s your coat?”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

the second we pulled into the hub parking lot, i regretted asking to go. it was packed with other high school kids, all of whom knew what had happened sunday night 3 weeks ago. or at least they thought they did.

“we don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” scott says, noticing the worry on my face. “i’ll take you back home.”

“no,” i resist, struggling to push open the door. scott gets out and runs around to help me. “i can’t go back to that house yet.” i stopped for a second, waiting for the pulsating to stop in my sides. “and i’m gonna have to face them some day. it might as well be today.” i had forgotten how cold it was. i pulled my jacket a little tighter against me. “besides, i’m hungry.”

it was especially crowded because it was a saturday. there was only one table available, right near the door. scott made me sit down and then went to get some food. i sat down and tried to avoid the stares from those around me, tried to ignore the whispers. i kept my hand down and fiddled with my hands, counting the tiles on the ground to keep myself busy.

the group of friends from across the street were sitting in the corner where they usually sat. they made a few attempts to smile at me, but i just ignored them.

“hyde, you should go talk to her.” you heard one of them whisper. “you’re an orphan, she’s half an orphan.”

i looked up over at their table, and was met by six sets of eyes.

“oh, no. i think she heard us,” kelso said.

i just stared at them for a few more seconds before standing from the table and walking out the door.

“stella, wait,” i heard the door reopen and someone run after me.

i turned around and faced him, steven hyde, crossing my arms across my chest, only to be met by a sharp pain in my ribs. i cringed a little and dropped them to my sides.

“is this is what my life is gonna be like now?” i asked. “fake fucking sympathy and people who never even noticed me suddenly chasing after me when i walk away?” i shifted my weight between my feet, ignoring the pain in my ribs.

hyde sighed. “yeah, probably.”

“well, i don’t fucking want it. i just want to go back to being completely invisible,” i tried to cross my arms again, out of habit, and grimaced. “jesus christ,” i said dropping my hands, “and i want my ribs to stop hurting every goddamn time i move.”

“you got pretty beat up, huh?” hyde sympathized, clearly just trying to make sure i was okay.

“you don’t have to make small talk, hyde. my dad fucking died. i was in the car. i broke six ribs and almost caught pneumonia. we all know this,” i snapped before turning back around and walking to the car. scott had come out at this point, and was waiting for me by the car. “tell kelso he can fuck off, too.”

i quickly climbed in the car, and scott started it and started driving away. hyde was still standing on the sidewalk outside of the hub, a surprisingly defeated look on his face.

“hey,” scott said, reaching over and patting my knee, “it’s gonna be okay. you know that, right? you’re gonna be okay.”

and, no, it wasn’t gonna be okay. my dad was dead because he had been yelling at me. and i was yelling at him. it wasn’t gonna be okay. nothing was okay at all. 

but i didn’t say any of that, i just looked out the window and said, “yeah, i know.”

except no one knew any of it.


End file.
